


Lurk

by Marguerite07



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, I'll add more tags as i go, M/M, Obsession, Suburbia, Thriller, dangerous love, inhuman!Levi, kinda loosely inspired by the movie It Follows but not really, melancholy as fuck, psycho!levi, stalker!levi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:02:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5093414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marguerite07/pseuds/Marguerite07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Be careful of what you wish for.</p>
<p>Be careful of where you look.</p>
<p>And don't forget to run from what lurks in the dark. For It feels too much. And It never stops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lurk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's so close to Halloween, I figured now is the time to churn out all my horror ideas...apparently. I really love the movie It Follows - especially the aesthetic. This fic is very loosely inspired by it, it would probably help to listen to the soundtrack from the film and imagine this taking place in the same kind of setting.
> 
> One day I'll write something cute and fluffy, but that day is not today.

        The seasons roll by so fast. One minute it’s spring and the grass is just thawing out from under the ice of winter, and the next you’re thrown into the raw heat of summer. But as I said, they come and go with the blink of an eye. The last dregs of a hot summer remain in the air as school approaches. I take in the humid air, relishing the heat on my face and the cool water on my body. Our tiny suburban backyard has just enough room for an above ground pool. You know, the kind you can grab at Wal-Mart and assemble yourself? It won’t last more than one season, but it’s just enough to get me through the summer. I don’t even need to swim laps; floating on my back, staring at the cloudy sky is more than enough for me. Not that there’s even room for real swimming.  
         I gently move my arms and legs to keep my body afloat, occasionally brushing against the few dead leaves that have fallen into the pool from the surrounding trees. I’m sure this all sounds so melancholy: cloudy sky, dirty pool, and a boy lost in thought? Just throw in some Arcade Fire and we’ll have reached peak melancholy. But I can’t help it, there are so many thoughts swirling around my head. Whirling around like an icy blizzard, contrasting with the summer heat of reality. Feelings of anxiety, excitement, nervousness, confidence, and fear trading places; battling back and forth for dominance. I’m only 20, and I know I’m probably overthinking a lot of things. Well, most likely everything. Everyone tells me to stop worrying but next week I begin my second year of college. Next week I fall back into routine: go to classes, go to work at the local ice cream shop, go home and take care of my younger sister, rinse lather and repeat.  
         I feel like a robot stuck in the eternal loop that is life, not really having any control or direction other than to repeat, repeat, repeat. Work hard and keep going they say, but what I want to know is what happens next. Will I figure out this mystery that we are all slowly but surely moving closer towards, or does no one ever truly understand what they’re doing - what we’re all doing?  
         As children, we look forward to becoming adults. We welcome freedom with open arms and hearts, naïve to the shackles lurking in the dark. Shackles waiting to restrain that freedom, bearing down responsibility and guilt upon us instead. As eight year olds, we thought our parents held us at the height of captivity – “no television until you finish your dinner,” “behave our I will wash your mouth out with soap,” and the worst: “go to bed,” ringing in our young ears, urging on our defiance and desire to grow up. We craved the independence and freedom that our parents seemed to have, but as soon as we hit adulthood, life turns its back on us and thrusts us into a world without a map to navigate.  
         Growing into adulthood is like drowning. There’s a hand pushing you under, keeping you from surfacing. That hand is the dick known as Life. You feel helpless, the water rushing in your mouth and lungs, swallowing you whole inside and out. And yet you never get to the point of passing out. You never get that sweet relief. Instead, you’re coherent through it all; eyes burning and searching your surroundings, arms flailing for something, anything tangible. Sometimes you catch something, a sliver of hope and security, but it slips from your grasp as quickly as it appeared. I probably shouldn’t be thinking about this while I’m in a pool where I can actually drown. Don’t get me wrong, I sound melancholy and miserable because at the heart of it all, I am. But my will to live is even stronger. I want to survive and reach the end of this maze.  
         I bring my hands to my face, observing my pruney fingers; I suppose I’ve had enough Eren time. Rubbing my thumbs and forefingers together, feeling the wrinkles, I clench my fists and let myself drop for one last submergence. The water rushes over my ears, canceling the sounds of suburbia. A temporary relief from the world around me. Ironic isn’t it? To find solace in being underwater when it’s the air above that is suffocating and drowning me.  
        After a few seconds I push myself above the water, wiping the rivulets out of my face and pushing back my hair. I climbed out of the pool, but not without gazing up one more time. The sky was growing darker, the sun starting to set behind its curtain of clouds. How long had I been lost in my thoughts? I grab a large towel and pat my body dry before wrapping it around my shoulders.  
         I figure that Mikasa and Armin are still sitting out on the front porch so I make my way towards the gate leading to the front yard. My damp fingers brushed against the old, crackling paint of the gate. We live in a decent neighborhood; typical lower middle class suburban homes. People driving through will only notice the quaint homes and trees scattering the small plots of land, but upon further inspection, you’d realize that no one really kept up with appearances. Decaying wooden fences replacing manicured green lawns. Tacky and cheap plastic lawn chairs replacing tasteful outdoor lounging. This was our suburbia: broken and battered but still pushing forward.  
         The prickly half-dead grass tickles my bare feet as I make my way towards the front porch. As I suspected, my sister and best friend are relaxing in the said plastic chairs under the shade of the porch. Armin has his nose buried in a book and Mikasa is painting her nails – typical. The two faintly acknowledge my arrival, both looking up with a slight head nod in my direction and then returning to their previous tasks. I sit down in the chair next to Mikasa, pulling my feet up and wrapping my body tightly with the towel.  
         I looked straight forward at the life ahead of me. Sure, I was actually only looking at the dark house across the street, but I try to turn everything into a metaphor when I’m feeling melancholic. The fact that it looked like it was about to rain wasn’t helping either. I let out a soft sigh as I gazed forward, not quite focusing on anything in particular. Is this what I’m condemned to? The weak, crippled society of this isolated town, stuck in a cycle of mediocrity. Nothing new, always the same places and people, day after day. Stuck in what must be the world’s smallest community college, where I basically knew everyone from birth. Will I ever experience my first kiss? Will I ever experience love, true love?  
         At that moment, I was pulled from my thoughts when I noticed movement in one of the windows from the house across the way. There was no way someone was in there. It has been vacant for months after the previous couple who lived there retired and moved to Florida, as old people do. I narrowed my eyes, trying to focus. The distance between the houses wasn’t too large considering our lawns also reflected the mediocrity of the town in size. Sure enough, I could faintly see through the large living room where boxes are stacked; someone must have moved in. Someone new. But who?  
         A man appeared in the window, lifting a box with his side facing the window. I stared intently, completely oblivious of the fact that he could simply turn and see me. Which is exactly what he did. The man paused, placing the box back down and turned to fully face the window, his eyes zeroing in on me. I sucked in a breath, holding it in, due to shame and shock of being caught. This new man, whoever he might be, I didn’t care. I had to know more. He’s small in stature but no less intimidating. His hair is parted neatly with a shaved undercut and pristine looking clothing fitting him to a T. I would be lying if I don’t admit that he’s attractive.  
         His eyes bore into me, piercing me with his stoic expression. I could feel my skin tingle uncomfortably and my heartbeat picked up just a tiny bit.  
Armin startled me as the sound of his voice emitted from behind his book: Crime and Punishment.

        “We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.”  
         I turned to look at him, brow furrowed and eyes wide in shock. But he had already resumed reading. I turned back towards the house opposite us.

        In the moment, I couldn’t quite pinpoint what I was feeling as our eyes locked. I think I thought it was excitement and curiosity. It wouldn’t be until later that I would realize it was fear.


End file.
